
mlTSLAMS 



ALFRED. 






A PATEIOTIC PLAY, 



MARTIN F. TUPPER, 

Author of " Proverbial Philosophy" &c. 



PRINTED, NOT PUBLISHED. 



WitBtmindtx : 

PRINTED BY T. BRETTELL, RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET. 



205449 
J 13 






PERSONS. 



King Alfred. 

Elswitha, his Queen. 

Bertha, his Sister. 

Edward and Ethelward, Boy Princes. 

Guthrom, the Danish Viking. 

Ethelnoth, Headman of Somersets. 

Hereward, Headman of Wilts. 

Wulf, a boorish Celtic Neatherd. 

Egga, his old vixen Wife. 

Sidroc, a Danish Jarl. 

The Chief Skald. 

English Lords. 

A Gaoler. 

Danish and British Soldiers, &c. 

Scenes laid in Wilts and Somersets : at Chippenham, Ethandune, 
Athelney, and Glastonbury. 



Dresses, Arms, Standards, Appointments, and Architecture of 
the Period. Incidents, chiefly historical. 

Time of Action a few days : including the 23rd of March, 878 : the 

victory of Ethandune having been gained on 

Easter Day in that year. 

The Overture to be exclusively English and national music : to 
commence with wailing Welsh or old British tunes, then to swell 
into marches and military Bardism, — thereafter to change gradually 
into other recognised national airs ; a well wrought cento of tunes, 
including (for example) " The Bay of Biscay," " Rule Britannia," 
and so forth, ending with " God save the Queen." The like music 
between the Acts. 



A C T I. 



SCENE I. 



A desolate heath near Chippenham Castle, — the wind 
sighing, and the roar of battle in the distance : a long 
pause: then a rout of flying English and pursuing Danes 
in the back of t lie stage ; with afterwards a wounded white 
horse, royally caparisoned, and ride) less, galloping across. 
After this a lull: and then hurriedly from opposite points, 
back and front, Ethelnoth and Herewakd run in, with 
mace and sword, bloody. 

Hereward (eagerly), 
Where's the King ? — where's the King ? — 

Ethelnoth. 

Alas ! alas ! 
I much do fear me dead : his milkwhite charger, 
Ever the very focus of the fight, 
Fell with him o'er a heap of dead and dying, 
And, madden'd by the arrows, broke away 
Leaving the King afoot. I saw him stand 
Surrounded by a jackal pack of Danes, 
The very lion at bay ; they crowded on, 
But still he slew and slew, heaps upon heaps ; 
I strove to reach him, but could not get nigh ; 



For, wielding his red mace like Thor himself 

Stoutly he cleft a narrow bloody lane 

Eight through their opposite host, — and then, as if 

Fell'd by some coward caitiffs from behind, 

I lost his gold-sphered head ! 

Hereward. 

Woe worth the day ! 
With Alfred's death, what hope for England's life ? 

Ethelnoth (desponding iy). 
What hope : — for Alfred is the soul of England 
Of free, brave, honourable, religious England, — 
That doth with an indomitable will 
What Duty hath determined shall be done : 
And, with him dead, alas, for England dead ! 
Seeing the days are evil, and her sons 
Through mammon-worship and the selfishness 
Of peace and quietness at any price 
Are thus degenerate from old country love. 
Why, friend, — our magnates, baser than their names, 
To save their rank, and still upon the poor 
To trample with a rich man's cruel heel, 
All, save our gallant few in Somerset, 
Have covertly gone over to the Dane, 
Worship his Kaven, call this Guthrom king, 
And in their quaking crafty avarice 
Pretending peace with all men, brotherhood, 
And universal love, — that poppy milk 
Of poisoned human kindness, — have deserted 
Alfred to fight for England all alone ! 

Hereward. 
Alone ? — nay, Ethelnoth, — for some stand with him. 

Ethelnoth. 
We will not boast ourselves, good Hereward, 



But of the nobler and the richer sort 
All else have been corrupted by the Dane, 
Flattered, — or frightened at his pirate fist 
Clutching their moneybags, — thus to stand back 
And leave our English Alfred all alone ! 

Hereward. 
Alone ? — yet are there millions with the King : 
O Sir, the country's heart, the country's strength, 
Her thews and muscles all are with the King. — 
The People are for England and the King, — 
And God with us, — then say not thou alone ! 

Ethelnoth. 
My noble friend, forgive, — and Heaven forgive 
That false and feeble word of fear, alone : 
O wise and good rebuke !— my vision clears, — 
Alone ? I see so many now with us, 
All that is honest, earnest, brave in England, 
And God Himself on our side for the right, 
That none but perishable evil things 
Would seem to be against us. Yet, ah ! dread 
Unspeakable, ruin past repair, 
If English Alfred with his battleaxe 
Hath hewed him out only a grave, — 

[Wulf the neatherd runs in, ridiculously frightened . 

— Stand back ! — 
Speak, sirrah, — leave thy gaping. 

Wulf. 

Mighty captains, 
How went the battle down in Wilts ? which won, 
Saxon or Dane ? there's plenty o' both about, 
Axemen and pikemen, sword and mace and bowmen, 
I'm so afeard at all o' them, — which side won ? 

Hereward. 
Art thou for Alfred, churl ? 



WULF. 

Nay, mighty captain, 
Art thou for Alfred ? I'm — for — you, great captains, — 
Is then the Saxon or the Dane my lord ? 

Ethelnoth. 
Alfred is ]ord and king above thee, churl. 

Wulf. 
Just what yon archer told me, — to the word : 
A wounded dusty relic of the fight 
Now biding at my hovel : when I asked 
Which side had won, and who was lord and king, — 
He quoth, quoth he, — 

Ethelnoth. 

Stop, sirrah : lead us straight 
To see this archer ; he may bring perchance 
Some tidings of the king : we'll to thy hovel. 

[they go out. 

SCENE II. 

The neatherd's hut. Egg a, the housewife, comes in, 
and busies herself about kneading dough, going first up to 
Alfred, who, disguised as an archer, mends his broken 
bow beside a hearth. 

Egga {angrily). 
Nay now, young man, but I heard thee amouthing and 
araving and tongue- clappering lustily ; and all about 
England's woes forsooth ! Why, yell scare my fowls : and 
there's the old grey hen asitting on thirteen eggs to hatch 
come Woden's-day : a plague on thy thriftless clamouring ! 

Alfred, 
{looking up, and feeling the point of an arrow.) 
Dame, I will hold my peace. 



9 



Egg a. 

Ay, and it's pity too there's anything else abroad : why 
can't we all bide at peace, and hatch our chickens quietly, 
I should like to know. A plague on that quarrelsome king 
of ourn, says I ! Why can't he be peaceably disposed with 
these brave newcomers, — but fights and wars with the 
worthy gentlemen, to the ruination of all our crops ? A 
plague on the great king Alfred, says I, — and I only wish I 
had 'un here to tell 'un what I thought of 'un. 

Alfred. 
What ill could you say of him, Dame ? 

Egga. 
Ill ? O, a plenty, a plenty : who but he hinders us all 
from biding contentedly under any other outlandish king 
that wills to come and rule us ? Who but he exasperates 
your wealthy voyagers from Daneland, (rich gentlefolk hung 
about with links o' gold too,) driving them to burn down 
our homesteads and haply roast us inside, when they come 
to pay us a neighbourly visit, and find Alfred's England so 
little willing to be hospitable ? Who but this glory-craving 
king of our's, with his royal rights and revenues, his 
gracious grandeurs, that only signify a narrowhearted 

selfish 

Alfred. 
No, Dame ! he fights not for his single self 
But for his People, — for their liberties, 
Their laws, religion, — 

Egga, 
Stop you there, religion quotha ! What's your new 
fangled monk-worship to compare with grand old Thor and 
Woden, and Asgard and the Asen and the Valhal and 
Valkyrior, I'd like to know ? Ay, ay, young man, — the 
Skalds ha' taught us enough, and well enough, I wot. 



10 

Our old country gods be more terrible than your relics. 
And — as for laws and liberties, — Saturn save us from them 
both, and let us hatch our eggs peaceably. There now, 
mind thou well yon batch o' cakes, young man, and turn 
'em on the hearth when they're a-browning : and I must go 
water the cattle, and feed the pigs awhile. [she goes out. 

Alfred, 
{alone, — rises slowly, and speaks mournfully .) 
Heaven grant me patience ! Can they sink so low 
And still be counted men and Englishmen, — 
That liberties are nothing, good laws nothing, 
Religion nothing, — so they may keep peace 
And hatch in shame and sin their golden eggs ! 
0, this is bitterness : my noble people, 
With those false magnates leading them astray, 
Their true king lost, — my sheep without a shepherd, 
Infected with this rot of canting love 
To welcoming the wolves within their sheepfold ! 
It hath been something to have lost this day, 
And dared the scoff of craven by my flight : 
Yet did I dare it — even this — for England ! 
And I have hidden those my royal robes 
Hastily in the thicket, where I found 
One of my noble archers lying dead, — 
And so I borrowed these old gearn of his 
To clothe withal my shamed majesty. 
Yet, — all for such ! — if such can be true sample, — 
A nation like this boor and his old shrew, 
Who heed their crops but not the Mother-land, 
Loving their country less than they love cattle, 
Despising their great birthright liberty 
Ready to sell it for a mess of pottage, 
Scorning the grace of equitable laws, 
Scoffing in misbelief at true religion, 



11 

And for invaders leaving their fall'n king,— 
0, this is bitterness ! 

— But no, no, no ! 
My People, England, — thou art not as these, — 
My generous noble dear devoted People ! 
Had there been only weapons in your hands 
True- as the hands that should have wielded them, 
These fierce sea-robbers never had set foot 
Upon our sacred shore, — or, once flung there 
As jetsam in a storm, had never found 
A grave beyond the beach ! 

Enter Egga /row behind. 
How now ? — what, amouthing again ! How's the man- 
chets ? — Whew — they're cinders ! — why, thou poor harlotry 
play-actor, be this thy way o' winning bread ? to burn the 
manchets, and all for a spell o : speech-making ? — Out on 
thee, thriftless ! [she offers to strike him. 

[enter Ethelnoth and Hereward with the neat/ierd. 

WULF. 

Here, this way, mighty captains, here's our archer, 

Ethelnoth. 
king, blessed hour ! 

Here ward. 
England's darling ! 
[they kneel: Egga, bustling up and peering at 
them all curiously. 

Egga. 
How ? be'st thou the king, — the great, the glorious, the 
good king Alfred ? Nay, nay, but we'll build thee up a 
throne ; hither, goodman, the bolster and the pillows ! 
(ye're an earl or an ealderman at the least, fool !) quick, 
fool, quick with the pillows. 



12 



Alfred [mournfully). 
Is any left with you to call me king ? 
Have any more of English blood escaped 
The murderous onset of the Dane ? 

Ethelnoth. 

O king ! 
We love thee, England loves thee, and thy name 
Is as a tower of strength : for God and thee 
All England lives ! 

Alfred. 
Yet, — have they not made peace, 
A shameful peace with this invading Dane ? 

Hereward. 
Only the rich and noble, for estates. 

Alfred. 
Headman ! the commons with this deadly taint 
Of loving peace instead of righteousness 
Are touched ; I know it, feel it bitterly. 

Ethelnoth {with warmth). 
It is another race, another blood 
Of alien feeling arid an adverse faith. 
Old England's heart is evermore with thee 
Her king, her best of kings, her longtime Darling ; 
We are for Alfred : but there is a folk 
That antedates the coming of our good 
And heeds of even thee as new and strange, 
Hating and plotting, though they cringe like serfs; 
Let such dream on. For England and for thee 
Are we, and (Heaven forgive us !) all good men, 
The generous common-people, honest hearts, 
The true, the sturdy, the keensighted class 
That midway judges England, and commands 
All higher and all lower to love Alfred ! 



13 



Alfred. 
Amen ! for God, and Alfred, God's poor servant : 
I will, He willing, live and dare and die 
For only England : but, my patriot friends, 
What sign is there of such a loyal spirit 
When not alone the lords fall to this Dane, 
But ev'n the commons he a trifle touched 
For merchandize and hatching of their eggs, 
What sign of hope, if thus the nation leans 
Against their liberties and laws and me ? 

Ethelnoth {vehemently). 
They hang on thee, great Alfred ! Never yet 
(And for a thousand years shall this be true,) 
Have Englishmen or England striven against 
The strong incline their Alfred sloped for them ! 
Thou hast invented Liberty for England ; 
Thou hast forged Law : thy veriest fantasies 
Have stood religious doctrines for all England : 
The twelve wellsworn that judge of life and death, 
The schoolread bishop, and the parish-priest, 
The unbribed judge, the prisoner's advocate, 
Lieutenants, sheriffs, bailiffs, constables, 
The coroners for innocence or crime, 
The watchers on the highway, and the wards 
Who feed the poor by largesse of the rich 
All are of Alfred : yea, and more than so, — 
Our armies levied by thy providence, — 
Our navies, that do sentinel the ports 
And guard (with angels in their tops) against 
Invading foemen, — these are all of Alfred! 
O King, we never can forget our Alfred ! 

Alfred (devoutly). 
To Heaven the praise, where praise is justly due. 



14 



And thanks to you, friends, for this timely comfort. 
Believe me, never shall despair of England 
Weaken this arm, or paralyse this heart 
Or cloud the brow of God's anointed. 

Listen ; {in a low voice) 
[Wulf and Egga have been whispering together, 
and are creeping out. 
We must hie hence at speed: yon Celtic serf 
Discerning his advantage in our need 
(Look how he mutters with his mate) forthwith 
Will sell us to the Dane,™ 

Ethelnoth. 
My dagger's point [drawing a dagger. 
Frees thee, and us, from danger ! 

Alfred {solemnly). 

Ethelnoth ! 
I do rebuke thee for that thought of shame; 
Put up thy murderous sting, and let them live. 
To slay our open enemies afield 
HotbJooded for the right in self-defence 
Seemeth necessity, though sore and sad : 
But thus to steal a march on Providence 
(That willeth only good and through good means) 
By sheer assassination in cold blood 
For selfish safety, is — with God, a crime, 
With men, an utter folly, Ethelnoth. 
No : we must hence at once, and secretly: 
My diadem and mace and royal cloak, 
Oerdic's own mace, and Egbert's diadem, 
We first, with backward step (to spoil the scent) 
Must straight reclaim from yonder tangled thicket; 
Thence, doubling on our track, to — 

Follow me. 



15 



Ethelnoth. 
Lead on, good King, we live to follow thee ! 



End of Act I. 



[The music between this Act and the Second may include 
the old English airs of " From merciless invaders," and 
" The brave men of Kent," dc. with perhaps the modern 
one of" Hard Times, come again no ?nore."] 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. 

The outer room of a cottage in the fortified marsh of 
Athelney. Alfred's harp hanging up ; and a time-candle 
on the mantel of a hearth, near which is a settle-like table 
and stools. Edward and Ethelward, the boyprinces, 
are making a toyboat, with a little bow and arrows near 
them and a paper kite, dec. : sordidly dressed, as in distress, 
and looking hungry : playing not for pleasure but for 
employment : perhaps one reading a missal, or writing on 
a board. 

Bertha discovered comforting Queen Elswitha, who 
is crying over a little curly headed S-y 'ear -old daughter : 
and a large mastiff in the room. 

Bertha. 
Dear heart, take comfort; hope for brighter days 
The likelier to dawn upon us now 
For this long night of sorrows, — nay, my Queen, 
My sister, do not weep so. 

Elswitha {sobbing violently). 
— For the children 
My Alfred's darlings, England's royal stock, 



17 



Mated with poverty, pale, hungerbitten, 

Bertha, Bertha ! 

Bertha. 
He will soon come back, — 
And bring back happiness and plenty with him ; 
He hath but gone a little while and way 
To get (and Heaven is kind) a little food, — 
And he had hope to meet some score of friends 
Some brave and worthy men of Somerset 
Who have got clue to us at Athelney : 
Cheer up, dear Sister-Queen, — 

Elswitha {listening intently). 

Hark ! that's his step, 

1 know my Alfred's step among a thousand ! 

[she runs to meet him at the door, which is central. 

Alfred. 
How are the children, wife ? — what, crying eyes? 
Nay but I come to kiss the tears away : 
Love, — have no fears — for He who fed the ravens 
Careth for us, — lo now, wife, wine and bread ! 
A noble friend hath spared us from his need 
(A noble friend in own extremity 
Yet did I make him eat and drink himself) 
Hath spared me — (it was for the children's sake 
And yours', dear wife and sister) — bread and wine : 
Look, this half loaf and flask, — Thanks be to God ! 
Here, Edward, eat my boy, — drink, Ethelward, 
Take some, dear wife, dear sister, — 

Elswitha. 

Not until 
Thy precious lips have blest the precious food : 
Alfred, not I, but England bids thee take 



18 



All that her widowed poverty hath left 
To feast her King withal ! 

Alfred. 

One morsel, wife, 
For England's dearest sake and thine, — one drop. 
Now, feast, my darlings ! Nay — it was our bargain. 
And, Edward, hither ! hither, Ethel ward, — 
Come to the better bread, for starved in knowledge 
A man, an Englishman, is starved indeed : 
Come, pretty ones ; — see, I have found some nuts, 
A squirrel's hoard in an old hazel-stem, 
To share between my lads for doing well 
Their reading and their writing : — hither, boys. 

[he teaches them at the table : Elswitha and 
Bertha come to him with the bread and wine. 

Elswitha. 
Now, dearest Alfred, eat. 

Bertha. 
Come, king and brother, 
A little wine, for thou art very faint. 

Alfred. 
Well, an ye will, my treasures : 

[he eats and drinks a little. A knocking at the 
closed door startles them all. Bertha runs 
to see before Alfred has prevented her. 

Hark ! who knocks ? 
Stop, sister ! — the brave and venturous girl ! 

Bertha, 
(throwing the door open, and discovering a whiteheaded 

and picturesque old man.) 
It seems a poor old beggar, very old 
And very poor, and famishing, he says, 



19 



And praying in the holy name of Christ 
A bit of bread. 

Alfred. 
Here, sister, give him this. 
[Alfred gives Bertha the remainder loaf and flask. 
Elswitha {running up). 
What, this, this — husband ? all, our little all ? 
Think of the children and to-morrow, — this ? 
Why, this is all we trust to for to-morrow ! 

Alfred {looking upward). 

Wife, — for to-morrow I have trusted God ! 

He is our Help tomorrow as to-day ; 

And if to-day doth bring a duty close, 

We must fulfil it, trusting for the morrow. 

Here, my poor gaffer, eat, — nay, eat it — drink. 

[gradually, as he speaks, the backscene changes, 
and to Alfred's mute astonishment {no one 
else seeing anything of this, — for Bertha 
and Elswitha are taken up by watching 
Alfred's enhancement, and the boys are 
happy over their nuts and toys, &c.) " the 
Vision" comes, with distant supernatural 
music, shewing the old man changed into 
the Guardian Spirit of England blessing 
Alfred, but nothing said : only music. As 
it fades away, and the cottage wall comes 
back again, — 
Alfred {in an awed whisper). 

Is this a dream ? wife, O sister, speak ! 

Tell me, my boys ; who saw it, — and who heard ? 

Elswitha {earnestly embracing him). 
Husband, sweet Alfred, do not look so wild, — 
This is some feverish ecstasy of hunger 



20 



Such as St. Simeon and those eremites 

Took to be gleams of heaven. Eat, love, eat I 

Bertha, 
{runs to the door for the food, and in astonishment calls 

out,) 
O sister, what a miracle ! look, brother, 
The loaf is whole, the pitcher is abrim ! 

Alfred {slowly). 
Elijah, — David ! I do see in this 
Your God and mine ; I, the anointed King 
And Prophet of my people, take of Him 
The blessed food his mercy giveth me. 

[he eats and drinks, — as also do the children 
and Bertha and Elswitha, and they give 
pieces to the dog. Then Elswitha speaks. 

Elswitha. 
Dear husband, rest awhile, for thou art wearied 
And hast the eyes of one who seeth visions : 
Eest thee, and go to sleep, love. \a child cries within. 

There's the babe 
Calling me : Bertha, bring the boys away, [in a low voice. 
And let him sleep : — nay, thou canst leave the hound : 
Dear Gael, most faithful friend ! — there, lie thee down! 
To be our Alfred's royal bodyguard. 

[they go to the inner room at side door : and as 
Alfred is just reclined on a rude couch of 
skins, Ethelnoth and Hereward run in 
at centre door. He starts up. 

Ethelnoth. 
Good news, O King ! Five hundred at our backs, 
Noble, though lowly, patriot Englishmen, 
Armed as they best could make or muster weapons 



21 



But sturdily resolved to play the men 
Have found thee out with us. 

Alfred. 

How didst thou find me ? 
We missed each other suddenly and strangely, 
Hunted and well-nigh taken : since that hour 
Hither escaped where I had stowed my treasures, 
I have lain close, for many foes are nigh. 
Lain close, and well-nigh starved : how did'st thou find me ? 

Ethelnoth. 
One that hath lately (and we found him dying) 
Shared his last loaf with England, seeing us 
And knowing us to stand for thee and thine, 
Told me — (it was his blessed thought at death) 
That he had saved the King ! he would not tell 
Alfred himself that he discovered him 
Lest that the King should seek elsewhere for safety ; 
For well the good man trusted, under God, 
This labyrinthine quagmired Athelney 
As Alfred's surest refuge : so he stayed, 
And never told the King that he was known. 

Alfred. 
A gentleman, a glorious Englishman ! 
Heaven give him rest, — didst thou not say he died ? 
But, but that passes. {with enthusiasm. 

England and five hundred ! 
Gideon had fewer men at Meroval ! 
— Is the foe near, the Dane ? 

Here ward. 

At Ethandune ; 
With scores, alas, of England's false great lords 
Playing the courtiers to King Guthrom there. 



22 

Alfred. 
How many seem the foe ? stand they prepared ? 

Hereward. 
I wot not : it were easy for the birds 
To oversee their strength, but beyond hope 
For us that creep afoot. 

Alfred {after a pause of thought). 
I am resolved. — 
Ethelnoth, rest thou here with Hereward, 
And those five hundred, — how are they provisioned ? 

Ethelnoth. 
Well : for we drove in herds of cattle with us. 

Alfred {earnestly). 
Non nobis, Domine ! — yes, Ethelnoth 
To know aright the blessedness of plenty 
A man must once have felt how hunger gnaws. 
Eor those five hundred, thank them heartily 
And bless them from their King : guard well my Queen, 
Guard the dear children, England's royal Princes ; 
And I the while will see and guage this Dane. 

Ethelnoth {falling on one knee). 

King, be sparing of that precious life 

In which all England lives, and with thee dies : 

1 know thy countless courage ; well I know 
That thou against ten thousand would'st advance 
Alone, and in thy spirit battle down 

Their myriad host, — yet is the body something, 
This wretched, hungry, weak and crushable body, — 
O King, trust not to that. 

[Bertha comes in unseen and quietly through 
the side door. 
Alfred {raising him kindly). 

I trust in God : 






23 



And, under Him, in Mind, and in my Right. 
Hearken, good Ethelnoth : I have some skill 
In harping and our national melodies : 
And, with disguise, (this is no lie, but wisdom) 

[he takes down his harp. 
I will search out this Dane in his own camp, 
Will there discern his powers, judge my false lords 
Whose love of peace — the craven hypocrites ! — 
Hath betrayed England, — and will know the time 
When my five hundred shall recover England ! 

Hereward. 

A great good thought, and worthy of our King. 
For us, depend ; nothing in earth or hell, 
While one of us is living, shall do harm, 
Shall not do good, to Cerdic's royal stock : 

[Bertha retires. 
The Queen, the Princes, and the Crown are safe. 
Go then, great Alfred ! go, without a care 
And test the Dane : all blessing on thee there. 

[they all go out through the central door. — Scene 



SCENE II. 

The inner room : a humble nursery, Elswitha rocking 
a cradle. Bertha runs in. 

Bertha. 
He's gone ! — I wot not whither ; took his harp 
And spake of some disguise. 

Elswitha. 

Gone ? left us, sister ? 



24 



Bertha. 
In charge of yonder gallant gentlemen, — 
And he is gone alone to seek the Dane. 

Els with a. 
O brave, rash, noble deed ! — nay, let me go, 
I'll follow him, and guard him with my prayers 
His ministering angel under Heav'n, — 
Some ill might else befal, — 

Bertha. 

And leave the children ? 

Elswitha. 
Ah, sister ! when a mother and a wife 
Hath to elect between her little ones 
And him who made them hers, marvel thou not 
If in the wrestling anguish of her soul 
She choose her husband ! — Bertha, — let me go, — - 

Bertha. 
I, I will go : see here, I have my cloak, — 
And look, the baby is awake and wants thee ! 

Elswitha. 
My precious ! — Bertha, — nay, thou shalt not go, — 
Ah me, — my very heart is torn in twain ! 
Stay with the children ! 

Bertha. 

But the babe, dear sister, — 
Think of its asking mouth, its little face 
Pining with hunger, if thou wert away ; 
The path is perilous, and may be long, 
And those marauders — [she runs off. 

Elswitha {calling after her.) 

Sister — stay ! — Brave girl, 



25 

She's gone or e'er I was aware ; heaven, 
Shield her, and him, and these ! 

My precious babe, 
Dear Alfred's fairest, last, and best-beloved, — 

\_she sobs broken-heartedly over the cradle, 
and the Act ends. 



{The music between this Act and the Third, may include 
hints of the tunes, "Home, sweet home," and " There's a 
good time coming" dec.) 



ACT III, 



SCENE I. 



A wood. Enter Alfred in a brown cowled habit, with a 
white beard, and his harp. A good Welch harper close 
behind the scene must play to his pantomime. Some 
Danish outposts come along, and he pleases them with his 
martial bardic tunes, such as " Men of Harlech," and the 
like. After a tune or two he addresses them, in an old 
man's voice — 

Alfred. 
Is this the track to Guthrom's camp, good folk ? 

[one offers to take his harp, dec. 
Nay, friend, I've nought for pillage but this harp ; 
If thou canst play upon it, take it, — or 
My skill shall go along with it and thee, — 
Haply thy fellows there may like my songs. 

[he plags spiritedly to their great admiration, 
they crowd round him, and one of them 
cries out — 
Ay, bring him on to the camp ; come along, old bones. 

[they all follow, leaving the scene empty. Bertha 
comes in timidly. 

Bertha. 
I heard his harp : I'm sure it was his harp. 



27 

what a dreary place for evil beasts 

And evil men to lurk in, — God protect me ! 

[more marauders come in, meeting her tu- 
multuously : she, battling down fear, 
courageously addresses their gruff black- 
bearded chief. 

Bertha. 
Sir, did a harper pass thee ? 

Sidroc. 

Surely, pretty one ; — 
They've ta'en him with his harping to the camp : 
Curse all these fellows, — had I been alone — 

Bertha. 
Wilt take me thither too ? I sing with him. 

Sidroc. 
Ay, ay, come on with me. 

[the others crowd round, he eyes them savagely ; 
and they jeer him, saying — 

What ? all for one ? 
Ha ! ha ! No, Sidroc ! we are coming too ! 

Bertha {cheerfully). 
Thanks ! I can sing you many pretty songs, — 
One now, friends, if ye list, 

[she sings, to the tune of Codiad yr haul, or 
" the rising Sun," a well-known old British 
bardism, 
Corydon, Corydon, whither away ? 
Come along, come along, list to my lay, 
I can sing merrily 
Happily, cherrily 
I can sing merrily night and day ! 
Glad goes innocent cheerfulness, 
Walking unharm'd amid perils and tearfulness, 



28 

Steadily onward, in spite of its fearfulness, 
Trusting in Heaven as well she may ! 
[the rough Danes are enchanted, and raising 
her in triumph on their locked shields, four 
of them, they shout, 
A prize for the Viking himself, and worth a gold bracelet to 
every man of us ! 

[and so they carry her off admiringly and exult- 
ingly ; Sidroc following, looking Hack, 

SCENE II. 

A splendid perspective scene of the Banish encampment, 
with all characteristic appointments : in the distance is 
heard Alfred's harp, and acclamations. The Viking's 
magnificent pavilion at side, full of renegade English 
lords, Danish chiefs, and Guthrom throned in the midst. 
After a pause, the Danish marauders of last scene bring in 
Bertha on their shields in tumultuous joy, shouting — 

A prize for the Viking ! A goddess for the Viking ! 

Beautiful as Freja ! melodious as Iduna ! 

Guthrom {to Bertha, as she is set down at his footstool 

by the kneeling Da?ies.) 
If any one of these hath harmed thee, maiden, 
Speak fearlessly. 

Bertha. 
Not one, my lord, not one. 
Guthrom {to a Danish official), 
Chancellor, give them largesse handsomely. 

[he gives them each a gilt armlet, which they 
wear proudly. 
Now, maiden, canst thou sing some country song, 
To cheer and soothe us after all this fighting ? 



29 



Bertha, 
{hearing Alfred's harp, while he approaches midway up 

the scene). 
There is a harper yon ; I sing with him. 

Voices. 
The harper, the harper ! take him to the Viking. 

\they recognise each other, and sing together 
before the lords and Guthrom : tune, Codiad 
Yr Hedydd, "the rising of the lark:" 
Bertha sings to the harp music, 
Cease, cease, thou warlike stranger ! 
From thy red career of danger 
Best, Viking, rest ! 
My unhappy fatherland, thou loved and blighted shore, 
May kind Heaven s gracious hand Pour upon us peace 

once more, 
Son of Odin, let thy brand Soon be wreathed with olives 
o'er, — 

Best, Viking, rest ! 

[Guthrom looks and listens delightedly, as en- 
chanted by her beauty and singing : mean- 
while, it being full noon, a grand procession 
of skalds and priests with hideous blood- 
stained idols and the sacred Raven banner 
winds up the camp to Guthrom's tent : 
where with prostrations he offers incense to 
the Raven and other idols ; he then turns to 
Alfred and Bertha. 

Guthrom. 
Harper and maid, — a hymn, and bow the knee. 

Alfred. 
We may not kneel before thy gods, O Viking ; 
Ours is another faith, and thy great mind 



30 



Tolerant, as true greatness ever is, 

Will have respect to conscience : we dare not. 

Chief Skald. 
Dare not ? yet dare to disobey the Viking ? 
Kneel, or ye die. 

Alfred. 
Then will we die, not kneel. 
[Guthrom looks round at the English lords 
and whispers with them : the chief Skald 
approaches with a hieroglyphical scroll : 
he reads 

Chief Scald. 
The sentence in the Edda is distinct ; 
That men who will not worship Hilda's Eaven 
Be torn asunder by wild horses ; women, 
That they be burnt alive. 

Guthrom. 

Now, maid and harper, 
How answer ye to this ? Can your god save you ? 

Bertha. 
He can, He will ! we worship only Him. 

[to the tune of Ar hyd y nos, Bertha sings, 
Not to those thine idols gory 

Bend we the knee ; 
Only unto God the glory 

Thus render we ! 
Unto Him the whole creation 
Brings from every tribe and nation 
Glad and ceaseless adoration, 
Praised be HE ! 
[Guthrom is entranced more and more, but an 
English lord beside him says, 
The brainless fanatics, — why can't they kneel ? 



31 



Guthrom {turning on him fiercely,) 
Thou recreant to thy country and thy creed ! 
Be silent in these holy presences : 
I honour this young maiden, this old man, 
For honouring their god. Yet must they die 
For thinking scorn of our's. Maid, canst thou bear 
The fierce flame gnawing at thy living flesh 
A writhe in that terrific agony, 
And all to please some — let us say some god 
Like Hilda's Raven ? — Would I had such faith. 

Alfred. 
Viking, the God we serve created all things, 
He is the glorious Spirit of all worlds, 
Made thee, and me, and feedeth men and ravens ; 
We worship our Creator and our Judge. 

Guthrom {alarmed), 
Our Judge ?— Will the Creator be our Judge ? 

Alfred. 
All that is done on earth in thought or deed 
Riseth again for judgment: evil then 
Is doomed to endless dying, endless hate ; 
Good lives the life of everlasting love. 

Guthrom {musingly), 
These words are new, and of strange force. But, maiden, 
Canst thou endure the fire on this fair flesh, 
Thy body's utter anguish ? Ay, and first 
Endure like anguish of the feeling heart 
To see thy grandsire there torn by wild horses, 
Rather than bend the knee one easy minute ? 

Bertha. 
The pain is terrible I know, my lord ; 
And yet more terrible to see another 



32 



In extreme torment • yet, I will not kneel. 

[the priests and Skalds crowd round and lay 
hold of them: then suddenly and deter- 
minedly, as convinced after a struggle, 

Guthrom. 

Release them, Skalds and Priests ! — they shall not die : 

A constancy like this must have its root 

In a true faith : I will not tempt their god. 

Give them safe conduct through the lines. 

[Alfred and Bertha how to Guthrom, whose 
eye follows them with interest, as they are 
honourably escorted up the camp by the 
armletted party of Banes. The idol pro- 
cession goes away at side hurriedly and 
angrily ; then 

Guthrom. 

Who's here ? 
[Wulf the neatherd is dragged before the 
presence as a spy. 

Wulf. 
Ay, bring me to the king, I say : nay now, don't buffet 
me, mates : I'm no spy, but an honest true Briton, 
wishing well to everybody ; like those noble gentry 
yonder who are all for peace and good King Guthrom. 
He's the strongest now, so he's my king. 

Guthrom. 
Why this disturbance, fellow ? what's your errand ? 

[Wulf drops ridiculously on his knees, dumb- 
foundered, 

Guthrom. 
Speak, Sirrah ! — not this pantomime. 

Wulf. 

I can't. — 



33 



I had a speech o' my tongue, but I've forgot it, — 

I, I, — yes ! I'll tell you where he is, — 

He's hiding in my hovel handy to us, 

Or was there twelve hours back ; only my wife 

Thinking to get here first and clutch the gold 

(A thousand links — a thousand links, they tell me !) 

Lock'd me i'th' cowhouse, till I well nigh starved,- — 

— here she comes to tell us all about it. 

Guthrom. 
What means this dull buffoon ? who's in his hovel ? 

WULF. 

King Alfred ! — I, I — crave your royal pardon, 
Alfred, not king : — at least he should be there. 

[Egga, the neatherd's wife, is pulled in by the 
Danish soldiers. 

Egga. 
There now, adone, adone ! why the camp followers 
ha'been tumbling me about all night and morning, and I 
couldn't get anigh your great royalty to tell you sooner ; 
but its true, — he's a brownquilted archer and burnt my 
manchets. 

Guthrom. 
Go with this beldame, some of you, and search : 
Bring Alfred back, — they shall have golden links ; 
But, if he have escaped through their contentions, 
They shall be hung, — their links will then be iron. 

[Egga is hurried out : Wulf remains in custody, 
looking ridiculously miserable ; meanwhile 

Guthrom. 
The fugitive must then be near us still ; 
I hoped him slain; but among all those thousands 
Narrowly as we searched, he was not found. 
So, seeing our camp, after this victory 

c 



34 

Is safe and fearless without one foe nigh, 

Captain, — proclaim a general holiday, 

That all our soldiers search the country round 

(Saving our royal body-guard alone) 

And so take two days license foraging. 

[great huzzaing in the camp, an ovation to 
Guthrom, and the Third Act ends.) 



(The interlude music to include Ci Hark, hark, the lark at 
heavens gate sings," and " Hearts of oak," dc.) 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. 

The earthworks outside the royal hovel in the marshes of 
Athelney : ivith sentinels, and Ethelnoth with Hereward 
looking out : a sentinel, in the distance, calmly says, — 

I see a harper coming, — and a girl. 

Ethelnoth (with fervour) , 
Thank heaven ! it is the King ! 

Hereward (calling at the cottage window), 
Safe, safe ! the King ! 
[Queen Elswitha and the Children run out, 
and all are eagerly crotcding to the distant 
parapet, looking out, and waving hands ; 
the Queen kneeling, and looking up grate- 
fully. After a pause, Alfred mounts over 
the parapet, where hejlings off his disguise, 
and lays down his harp, — Bertha behind 
him. 

Alfred (exultingly) . 
Now give me my five hundred ! 

[the boys run up to him. 
Father ! 



36 

[and the Queen still on her knees. 
My husband ! 
[a touching tableau, Alfred in the midst : he 
looks up, and then affectionately round on 
all, and then speaks, tenderly. 
My wife, — my little ones, — my noble friends ! 

{they shout ) 
God save the King ! 

Ethelnoth {on one knee). 
thou art greater now, 
More glorious far, in this dark time of trial, 
Than even when on Ashdune's crimson field 
Thou stood st a conqueror crown'd ! 

Alfred. 

Hearken, my friends, — 
Good Providence, or He whose name that is, 
Hath sped me on my way; — and Bertha too, 
Brave sister, daring that most hideous risk, — 

Bertha. 
How gladly did I stand beside thee, brother; 
And, but that I had gone, Elswitha here 
Had even left the babe for love of thee ! 

Alfred. 
Dear wife ! Oh what a happy, tender name, 
When those who bear that name are such as thou ! 
Obedient, gentle, loving, sensible, — 
But, — Ethelnoth ! My soldiers ! Hereward ! 
This night, my Ethelnoth, this happy night, — 
Hereward, speak, — are my five hundred sure ? 

Hereward. 
All staunch and true ; men that have burning wrongs 
And pine to quench them, with inveterate hate, 



37 

Like hissing torches in the blood of foes, — 
Men that love thee and England, — 

Alfred. 

I could wish 
To hear the love of England and her King 
Set far before a craving for revenge, — 
But this may pass, good Hereward ; rny five hundred, 
Let them be ready at sunset, armed, provisioned, 
(They drove in cattle with them, I remember,) 
And, somewhile after midnight, from the Dane 
Secure, and scattered in the villages, 
As taking license after victory, 
We, creeping through the woodlands, will regain 
At Ethandune what Chippenham had lost. 
Take this, Friend ; 

[he gives to Hereward the Alfred jewel. 
Wear it as a badge of honour : 
Take this too, Ethelnoth ; — 

[he gives him a ring. 
Let it be an heirloom. 
Would I were richer to reward your zeal, — 
And soon I shall be, friends, and will remember. 
Bid my five hundred eat their fill, and sleep ; 
See to their weapons ; and anon will I 
Speak with them each, and thank them : now, away ! 

[they and the sentinels go out, leaving Alfred's 
family alone. 

Alfred. 
Queen, — since that sacred meal, the unbroken loaf, 
The empty pitcher marvellously abrim, 
And that bright vision seen of none but me, 
I have stood strong in hope, a hope assured 
That this right-hand shall yet recover England ! 



38 



To-night I take no leave of thee, dear love. 
Though I am off at sunset to the Dane, — 
For in the morning thou shall set the crown 
On my victorious head at Ethandune. 
One kiss : — and now to gladden my five hundred! 

[they all go out. — Scene changes. 



SCENE II. 

A narrow strip of country : enter stragglingly from 
loth sides a multitude of the English, variously armed, as 
to a rendezvous and bivouac ; they lie down in picturesque 
groups and talk and eat together : then one speaks to his 
mates. 

First Soldier. 

Ay, if our great ones only trusted England 
And weren't so jealous of us, so suspicious, 
We had been round five-hundred- thousand good 
And not this poor five hundred. 

Second. 

We're enow ! 
King Alfred well may reckon for a million. 

Third. 
Nay, hut it's bitter grief and burning shame 
They held us back, and would not let muster, 
And kept the arsenals close,. — when willing hands 
Good able hands with stout hearts at their root, — 
Had swept off clean this seascum of invaders ! 

First Soldier. 
Our great ones (how unlike the King himself, — 
He wears a heart !) are all too grand, too cold, 



39 



Too wrapt in phrases and in courtesies, 

Too hand-in -hand with other foreign great ones, 

Too deep in pleasures, or in politics, 

To feel for England's wrongs, or fear her peril. 

They muster troops, — we paying for their levy, — 

All to protect themselves, and tread us down ; 

And lest our indignation should break loose 

Against their shameful truckling to the foe 

They snub our patriot zeal, keep us disarmed, 

And give us over to the wolf like sheep ! 

But look, — the King ! 

\_they get up quickly and range themselves : 

Alfred enters, armed, with Ethelnoth 

and Here ward. 

Alfred. 
God bless you, my five hundred ! 
I come to thank you in His name, and England's ! 
I come to lead you on to certain victory, 
To help you win your rights, and quench your wrongs, 
Conquering Liberty once more for England ! 
friends, O countrymen, my band of heroes, 
"We now go forth, prepared and resolute men, 
Assured of one thing, — we must, — we will conquer ! 

(they shout) 
We will, we will, God save the good King Alfred ! 

Alfred. 
Yet, mark me : all must steadily obey, 
Each at his post. Ethelnoth, — Hereward, — 
That these my brave intelligent Englishmen 
May work our plan, they all must comprehend it : 
Confidence in my people is my generalship. 
Listen, good men ; more gladly then obey. 
The Dane, some eight miles off, at Ethan dime, 



40 

Bevels in gluttonous security, 

And all is heedless license in the camp. 

The full moon rises two hours after midnight 

And in the dead of dark, their drunken sleep, 

We will surround, surprise, and overwhelm them. 

Hereward, tell our men by fifties off, 

Ten companies : ye know your country, mates, — 

Voices. 

Ay, ay, every track and byeway : every inch of it. 

Alfred. 

In single file wind through the devious woods, 
Avoiding villages, — and flanked by scouts. 
Each company, elect its separate leader, 
To follow and obey him, and keep silence. 
Now, Ethelnoth, take first your chosen fifty, 
Sweep widely to the north, and reach the camp 
Eastward! y just at midnight. Hereward, 
Take thou an opposite track through the morass, 
And just at midnight touch the camp full south. 
These other fifties, each at interval, 
Close north and west and every point between : 
And I, standing here last, will be there first 
To attack the nearest foe. Thus well arrived 
By steady combination silently, — 
Let all be hushed in eager readiness, 
Until ye hear my bugle ; then with shouts 
" Alfred and England," fly upon the foe ! 

[the bands march out, and as the last company 

is filing off they stop, — while Alfred prays, 

standing, 

O God of Christian England, hear her King : 
Spare, spare thy People, thine inheritance : 



; ■ 



41 

Let not the heathen have his wicked will, — 
But help the righteous cause. Amen. Amen. 

[and so they go out ; and the scene slowly 
changes, all the stage being dark. 



SCENE III. 

Midnight : the camp of the Danes, all asleep at their 
posts after a debauch of wine : the balefires nearly out, 
and all dark; suddenly a sleeping Dane starts up, and 
calls to his comrades beside him. 

Askytal ! Hubha ! Why it was a dream — 
Is any wine left i' th' beaker ? — I 've been dreaming, 
And woke in a foolish fright : — give us the wine, — 
I dreamt that Alfred and his men were on us ! 

HUBBA. 

Coward ! to wake us up, — what if they were ? 
There, drain it, fool, — and off to sleep again. 

[slowly, through the darkness, from the back and 
sides, steal in Alfred and his Captains 
and their companies, quietly guard every 
tent and sleeping man, and especially sur- 
round Guthrom's tent, and the Lords and 
Jar Is lying about in different attitudes of 
sottish sleep, with beakers and flagons, dc. 
beside them. Then Alfred pulls aside 
Guthrom's tent- curtain, —a light hanging 
within shewing him asleep on a couch, — 
and suddenly blows an alarm on his bugle ! 
Instantly they raise the warshout, — " Alfred 
and England ;" there is everywhere con- 



42 



fusion, separate battles, all being over- 
powered, a picturesque military tableau, — 
and Alfred master of the position: he 
speaks. 

Alfred. 
Guthrom, — give order that they drop their weapons : 
We will not spare one man in arms against us, 
Nor slaughter the defenceless ! Drop that mace. 

Guthrom {unwillingly, and folding his arms). 
I yield me. — Captain of my bodyguard, — 
What, lying in drunken slumber ? Hew him down ! 
Thanks, Sidroc ! Lo, — great Alfred, we are thine. 

[they throw down their weapons in a heap. 

Alfred. 

Now, Viking, quick with us ; the morning dawns, 

I have a tryste to keep before 'tis day : 

Come on. For you, — you base English lords, — 

How despicable ! — bind them fast with chains, 

These Danish fetters handy, suitable, — 

Ethelnoth, see not one of them escapes : 

Hereward, — make our other prisoners sure : 

We will deal justice with the rising sun, 

Justice and Mercy. On, to Ethandune ! 

\as the moon rises over the empty camp, they 
all go out, leaving a bright picturesque 
desolation of weapons and beakers, and 
moonlit deserted pavilions, and so closes 
Act IV. 

{Interlude music to be suggestive of" Come if you dare," 
" The land, boys, we live in" or "See the conquering 
hero comes" dec.) 



AC T V. 



SCENE I. 
A dungeon, and Guthrom fettered, 

GUTHROM. 

Alone ! with crimes and conscience left alone ! 
And those Berserkir demons of remorse 
Hunting me like a pack of famished wolves, — 
And Death upon the threshold, — watching there 
Cold and deliberate with his serpent eyes, — 
Not as when in the glorious battle shock 
Exultingly I've dared him to the face, 
And on the torrent of my boiling blood 
Whiii'd him aside with scorn, — but waiting here 
Gaunt, grisly, dreadful : — and then, after death, 
What said that harper, Judgment ? — endless woe 
For evil ? — I am evil. 

[a long pause, while he paces about despairingly, 
and then clasps on high his fettered hands, 
Great Judge, 
Unknown, and angered by the thousand crimes 
Memory sees, a crowd of haunting ghosts, 
Fearful, inevitable, — Great Judge 
Forgive, if yet Thou canst, forgive, forgive ! 

[the rough Dane burst into a paroxysm of tears. 



44 



What, tears ! — Can Guthrom, this bloodthirsty Viking 

The scourge of nations, be a child again ? 

Ah me ! for once he was a little child 

Innocent, happy, — but the guilty man 

Hath never wept till now these thirty years : 

to be like that little child again ! 

[he paces about despairingly. 
Would I could have yon maiden's martyr-faith ! 
Not all the heroes of our whole Valhalla 
Had half the courage of that noble girl : 
She feared not death, sure of some better life, 
Nor shrunk from pain, — the speechless pain of fire — 
Because her wondrous god would quench the flame 
With rivers of supernal joy and peace. 
O faith, light, — when can ye come to me ? 

[he sits down, and covers his face with his hands. 
Enter the Gaoler. 

Gaoler. 
Prisoner, I'm come to knock your fetters off. 

Guthrom {resolutely). 
'Tis well : unmanacled I march to death. 

Gaoler. 

The King is close at hand, and cometh hither, 
And none but traitors may be chained before him. 

[he knocks them off, 

Guthrom {musingly). 

And this is noble too : this generous Alfred, 
This type — (I do repent) — of generous England, 
Spared me, even me the ruthless brigand- chief, 
Spared, when he might have killed me in my sleep, 
And, now that I must die by law and right, 



45 



Comes like a man for equal speech with me. 

I'll meet him like a king — whom I have wronged. 

[Alfred in royal costume comes in alone, — the 
gaoler going away at a sign : Guthrom 
falls at his feet, 

Guthrom. 

I do not kneel to ask my life of thee, 
Great, injured, noble Alfred ! let me die 
At once, and cruelly, as I deserve : 
But I am bold to ask a higher boon, — 
Before I die, O King,— to be forgiven ! 

{suddenly enter Bertha, the gaoler preceding, 
and guards following. Guthrom exclaims 
in astonishment, 

The maid I the martyr-maid ! — Wast thou the harper ? 

Alfred. 
Yes, Guthrom : and we come to thank thee here, 
For that thy noble nature, under Heaven, 
Saved us so bravely in our utmost need ; 
Viking, I give thee life, and set thee free, — 
Kise, Guthrom ! 

Guthrom {quite overcome). 

Let me kneel ! Thy glorious creed 
That makes a man and woman more than gods 
O teach me, teach me ! It were life indeed 
To live, and be like Alfred ! 

Alfred (raising him kindly). 
Come with us, — 
For we will do thee good. 

Set forward, guards. 
[they all go out : and the scene changes. 



46 



SCENE II. 

A narrow strip of a wood. 

Enter slowly and ruefully Wulf and Egga. 

WULF. 

Why, I'm all over weals and bruises, old 'ooman. 

Egga. 
Well, an't that better than hanging ? I'm sure I never 
thought they'd ha' let us off so lightly. Ugh, — but 
they've battered me too, and it's worse to bear than the 
rheumatics. Howsomdever, it's a comfort to think one 
isn't hung. 

Wulf. 
Ha, — there's a twinge, — bide a bit, won't ye ? — I can't 
budge quicker than this : wheew ! but how my back 
aches : and I don't know which foot to put before the 
other ! 0, how those heavy little whips did cut round, 
to be sure : why, I'm ringed and spotted all over my 
body like a snake : Ha, — that we'd never meddled with 
that archer,- — Ugh — 

Egga. 
But it's a comfort too, to think they didn't hang us, 
and so, goodman, — 

[they slowly creep out. The scene changes. 

SCENE III. 
The terrace- slip of a garden with flowers. Enter the 
Princess Bertha, gathering a nosegay and conversing 
with Guthrom, ivho is splendidly apparelled, hut not as 
hitherto in his war costume. 

Guthrom. 
And thou hast given me life, as from the dead, 
For hope is life, — this wonderful new hope 









47 



That even I, Heaven's bitterest enemy. 
The fierce destroyer of this beautiful world, 
The very curse of men — can be forgiven ! 
What thanks, what thanks to pay thee ? — 



\]ie kneels. 



Bertha {raising him). 

Not to me, — 
Rise, gentle brother, (for thy new-born faith 
Giveth thee that new name,) kneel not to me, 
But worship only Him whose name is Love, 
Whose nature Mercy. 

Guthrom {earnestlij). 

Yet will I thank thee too, — 

And, if I may not worship, let me wonder 

Whether an angel can be good as thou 

Or half so loveable ! 

Bertha. 

O noble sir, 

I am myself but a young Christian maid, 

And cannot teach thee as another might, 

Arguing doubts, disputing controversies, 

There be some holy men, our learned bishops — 

Guthrom. 
Save me from holy men, and learned bishops ! 
Save me from doubts, disputes, and controversy ! 
I am all faith ! what could another give me 
Thou hast not giv'n ? my heart is lit at thine, 
My spirit is in bliss when thou art nigh, 
Thou only be my teacher! — thou alone 
Art unto me the beauty of holiness, 
Thou art the better angel of my life, 
And from thy blessed lips — 

Forgive me, Princess ! 

{suddenly checking himself. 



48 

My traitorous tongue hath overta'en my heart, 
I spake but as a little child might speak 
In all the artless utterance of affection, 
I am not what I was, — forgive me, Princess ! 

[she gives him a Jiower, smiles on him and 
walks away, he following admiringly. 

Guthrom. 
Ah, — might I dare to love thee ?— sweet, sweet rose. 

[he kisses the Jiower : and goes off — Scene 
changes. 

SCENE IV. 

A narrow passage scene : these scenes serving to give 
time and space for the splendid elaboration of the last: 
a number of the English and Danish commonalty and 
soldiers pass along and talk together : among them Sidroc 
and theFLRST and Second Soldier of Scene 2, in Act LV. 

First Soldier {addressing Sidroc). 
I suppose we are all bound alike toward Glastonbury, 
stranger ? 

Sidroc (gloomily and surlily). 
Ay, ay — I take it we be ; though it's pity and shame to 
some of us. When Eegnar Lodbrok hears o' this at 
Asgard, how 'twill ruffle the old seaking'"s spirit ! A Viking 
of Daneland to cast off his country's gods ! 

Second Soldier. 
I should n't like it any better than yourself, good way- 
farer, — if they were gods at all, — and if in casting off his 
old skin, Guthrom didn't find a better under it. He's as 
changed a man, folks tell me, — as a butterfly might be 
from a caterpillar : quite tame and kindly like, in lieu of 
the bloody pirate. 



49 



SlDROC. 

None o' your hard names, stranger : however, I'm dumb, 
for all you've got the mastery again, and it's no good 
arguefying. Let's on to Glastonbury together, and see the 
show. 

First Soldier. 

It's like to be a rare one. The Princess Bertha, with 
our good King Alfred himself, they say, will answer for 
the Viking at the font, and he's to drop his ugly Danish 
name for a better. 

Sidroc {gruffly). 

None of your hard 

Second Soldier. 
It '11 be a rare show any how : come along. 

{the scene changes. 

LAST SCENE. 

The interior of Glastonbury Abbey, very splendid: just 
after Guthrom has been baptized by the name of 
Athelstan. A magnificent spectacle, with Alfred, 
Elswitha, and all the court on one side, several being 
'pardoned E?iglish lords and Danish Jar Is ; and on the 
other Guthrom habited in white and silver, with Bertha 
near him and others grouped about the Archbishop. 
Crowds of Banes and English, as in amicable union of 
the two nations, their flags and emblems mixed. After a 
pause, Alfred in royal robes speaks from the throne. 

Alfred. 
This blessed chrism, brother Athelstan, 
(Eor thy new nature claimeth a new name 
That Guthrom may forget his former self,) 
H ath made the^-consecrate henceforth to Heaven, 

D 



50 

A worshipper of Him who made the worlds : 

Live as will best become that holy state. 

And, for I know how well she loves her convert * 

Even as thou rejoicest in her teaching, 

That our dear sister Bertha still may teach thee, 

We give her to thee, Athelstan, to wife. 

[he joins their hands, the Archbishop blessing. 

Guthrom-Athelstan (with astonished delight.) 
Gift beyond price ! bright and blessed day ! 
Thou wondrous harper, that hast thrilled my heart, 
Touch'd with rare skill its every trembling string, 
Tuned all its discords to melodious love, 
And made me all athrob with ecstasy, — 
And thou, so beauteous, — yet more good than beauteous, 
More loved than either, — my high noon of bliss, 

Princess, great King, — what shall I say ? 
My evil is so overcome of good 

And all my happiest hope more than fulfill'd 

1 scarce can think it other than a dream, — 
All new and strange, yet all so gladly true ! 
Praises to God, — and to his servant Alfred, 

And sweetest thanks to thee, most dear, most noble, — 

My martyr ! — I will be confessor now 

And stand the witness for thy God, and thee ! 

[he takes her hand, she smiling on him. 

Alfred. 

So shall we heal all woes, uniting nations. 
As for these English lords, sometime beguiled, 
But now themselves again, a little ashamed, 
I have forgiven them, — England shall forgive, 
If thus, ye my noble People round me, 



51 



You will take pattern by your English King ; 
And, while you battle down invading foes, 
Can welcome a converted enemy. 

Rise, Queen ! tomorrow will we set these nuptials. 

[as the royal procession goes out, the curtain 
falls slowly to the National Anthem. 



THE END. 



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